The Shortest Distance Between Two Points
by Lithey
Summary: Ken's out to prove something to someone, it seems, when he attempts to seduce someone... But Omi doesn't get the message. (KenxOmi)


the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.   
- a weiss kreuz fanfic -   


  


Sorry, I couldn't help myself. ^_^   
- - - - -  


  
You'd think that the leader of a four-man team of assassins would remember where he placed his Social Studies term paper, at the very least. 

The thing is, the trivial task of placing objects in drawers seemed so demanding to a boy whose worries ranged from dealing with Trig teachers who smell strange to dealing with murderers who, from time to time, smell slightly better. The system worked for him for long enough. Omi would place notebooks or books in strategic places without touching them for days on end, and their precise position as well as the direction they faced would somehow be retained in his memory. 

For some reason, this brilliant scheme decided to fall short one week before an important project would be due. Omi was physically repulsed at the idea of doing the whole thing all over again, his stomach churning at the thought of reacquainting himself with that cobweb-laced history book from the library. 

'_I can't have lost that report. That's half of my final grade..._' Omi shut his eyes and let them snap open at the next second, as if playing peek-a-boo with an imaginary term paper. '_Maybe I have a back-up file!_' he thought, with the blinding optimism that seemed intrinsic in most desperate high school students. He ran to his computer, turning it on as he searched the designated area of his desk for his rewritable CD. 

Mind you, it wasn't just any CD... it was as a Multipurpose Task Manager. In there were drafts, economic tabulations regarding the flower shop, addresses, profiles, a calendar, and a journal. The journal wasn't your typical "Dear diary" daily musings. This one was a dream journal, chronicling every detail of nocturnal fancies Omi managed to grasp the next morning. That and his school documents disregarded, the CD had been such a useful object to the team that it became, for a few brief weeks, a communal tool. Only until recently, everyone had access to it, before Omi announced that no one else was to touch the CD but him. Good as they were, the reasons went undisclosed. 

And so the CD stayed contentedly on Omi's desk, never to be moved by anyone other than himself. At least, that was the plan. 

One of his teammates must have taken it, and one by one they all suffered Omi's mental vengeful wrath as he imagined smiting them all with a giant mallet. Hadn't they respected his request for exclusive rights to it? 

Now he had to have that object in his hands, for a reason slightly more significant than his Social Studies grade. '_Please, God, don't let Yohji have it. Yohji would never let up with the teasing if he sees it!_' Omi then thought of the other nominees for CD-stealers. '_On second thought, let Yohji have it. No, let _Aya_ have it. Any one of those two, in fact, I don't care._' But why would Aya have it? Aya would do a lot of things, rest assured, but he wouldn't go around filching Omi's things. 

That said, Omi still asked Aya about the CD. His negative answer only compounded on Omi's stress. It meant only two other human suspects were in the running... Yohji and Ken. The two were out together (but not with each other, as Omi would be sure to add), in a joint effort to spruce up their social lives. 

By the time those two came back, Omi hadn't found his CD or, less importantly, his Social Studies paper. He scaled the stairs in about five steps as soon as he heard the beginnings of a brawl between the Ken voice and the Yohji voice wafting from the first floor. Sure enough, there they were, snapping at each other in what would seemed to be the aftermath of a less than successful double date. 

"Guys! Thank God you're home!" Omi panted, sagging on the stairs. He took a deep breath, but it was cut short (or shallow) when he realized he wasn't being paid any attention. 

"I never even asked you to make me go out with her," Ken was saying. 

"Hey, Ken?" Omi interjected, rather unsuccessfully. 

"This is the last time I'm going to listen to any of that!" Yohji replied, annoyed. "You're always telling me about how goddamn bored or lonely you are, and you know I'm doing you the favor here. And what do you do in gratitude? You botch it up! You tell me she isn't your type! Well, excuse me, but it's a little difficult looking for a girl who's round and covered with black pentagons!" 

One more time. "Yohji, listen, did you happen to see--" 

"Was that a soccer joke? That was, wasn't it?" Ken's eyes doubled, apparently scandalized. "Well, guess what! I never even _asked_ you to look for a date for me. I don't need your half-assed favors, Yohji. And if you need someone to hold your hand to get out of the house, I can find a date for myself." 

There was a momentary quiet in their conversation, as if it was put on stun. Omi took the golden opportunity to speak. "Umm... Guys, could you hold on for a second? This is really important--" 

Loud laughter erupted from Yohji's diaphragm, not to mention his odd humor. "That's rich, Ken. Thanks, I need that," he guffawed. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ken demanded hotly. 

'_Oh, why bother,_' Omi moaned internally. Best let them get their squabble over and done with. Omi sat back and tolerated the ride. 

"It means, you're speaking in Ridiculous, my occasionally endearing yet perennially half-witted friend. Case in point, you sulked in front of your date today because she was better at you in _darts_." 

That one seemed to hit a nerve. "A, I didn't sulk, and B, I was letting her win!" Ken insisted. "Oh, and C, I can too get a date of my own!" 

"Please, you desperately need to learn a thing or two from Omi." Yohji sent a wink the younger blond's way before returning to tease Ken. "And you should ask him for dart lessons, too." 

"Hey, I am so much better at picking up girls than Omi is, at least give me that! No offense, Omi," Ken was quick to add. 

"None taken," Omi muttered. 

Yohji sighed, making a show of looking bored. "Whatever. If you don't want my help, I'm not going to extend it to you anymore. I'm no longer bound by the kindness of my heart to have pity on you." 

"You know what, that does it! I'm going to prove it to you." 

The two blondes shared a look with varying levels of resignation, then proceeded to follow Ken, who had stormed off upstairs without any consideration to whatever dignity he had left. It occurred to Omi that he was being led into his own room, and his heart raced in fear of what little seed of an idea could be possessing the other boy's brain. "K-Ken, wait!" Omi stammered. While he might be able to find some concrete proof within the very walls of Omi's room to support his theory, it would also be painfully incriminating evidence regarding the younger boy's already questionable sexuality. 

"You see that picture?" Ken said as soon as they arrived, pointing at Omi's bulletin board. "The one of us in the carnival?" 

"Yeah, what about it?" Yohji's interest was lightly piqued. 

His hand thrashing about inside Omi's closet, and not figuratively, Ken replied, "Well, I bet that I can get laid by whichever person this dart hits." From the recesses of Omi's mostly vacant closet, a small weapon was produced. Again, not figuratively. 

Omi went for a failed grab at the dart. "Put that back, Ken!" 

"Just a sec! I'll return it!" 

"Oh, I'd love to see this," Yohji deadpanned. "In case you didn't notice, there are only three girls on that picture. One is an old lady, another is Persia's secretary -- who's about as easy as a brain surgery, and the last one is _Sakura_. Oh, and have I mentioned there are three guys in that picture, not including yourself? Provided the dart, your aim considered, even hits anything." 

"I have nothing to worry about. The dart will hit someone, and that someone will fall so hard for me by the time I'm through with them -- girl or boy," Ken declared confidently. 

"Wait a minute, that's my picture! I don't want you putting holes in it!" Omi whined. He couldn't let Ken go around seducing people! What if that dart fell on Aya? Or Yohji?! 

"I doubt it'd even hit anything inside the bulletin board... or the wall," Yohji mocked. "Alright, let's cover your eyes. Not like it matters with your shot." He placed his palms over Ken's eyes. "One week. If you're not successful, you get to take all of my shifts for one whole month. If by chance, and this is purely theoretical, God has mercy on you and gets you into someone's pants, then I do your shifts for a month. Deal?" 

"Yeah, yeah." With little else thought, Ken chucked the dart forward. It made a resounding _thunk_ as it met the cork board. 

Yohji laughed outright, looking like he was in actual pain from laughing too hard. Omi was somehow coping, huge eyes almost invading his entire face, one breath away from fainting. 

Despite his previous display of bravado, Ken had to ask, "What? What, did I hit it?" He pried Yohji's hands away, which wasn't very difficult since the taller man was convulsing in loud chortles. Ken blinked at the picture on Omi's bulletin board. Blinked some more. And finally, he grinned. "Score." 

The picture hanging on the opposite wall was now newly adorned with a dart. Right on Omi's cheek.   


  
- - - - -  


  
As punishment for "encouraging" more bets with Ken, Yohji was ordered to evacuate Omi's room with the cocky brunet in tow. Yohji had a hard time ushering out the ex-soccer player, as the former was still overcome with the giggles. But somewhere in his weird-situation-induced euphoria, he sensed that Omi was getting genuinely disturbed by Ken's blatant leering at him and had mercy on both boys. 

Omi had scarce private time to bemoan his fate, for Yohji returned, although somewhat sobered from the earlier events. "What are you doing here?" Omi pouted. 

"I won't stay long, you can mope about this later on. I just need to ask a favor of you, Omittchi... I really need you not to give in to Ken." 

"What are you talking about?" Omi squeaked. "What makes you think I'm just raring to go and-- and _be seduced_ by _Ken_?" 

"I am not going to do any of his damn shifts. You can't let him get to you, do you hear me?" Yohji instructed in a parody of solemnity. 

Blushing fiercely, Omi put his hands on his hips. "Yohji, it was never on my agenda to go--" 

"As incentive, if you help me win, I'll give you back your CD." 

"--hop into bed with--" Omi paused. CD? Yes. CD. "You have my CD? You have my-- Yohji, give it back! I swear I won't sleep with Ken!" Never thought you'd hear that, did you? "I need that back, it has my-- my report for Social Studies! Seriously, it's due next week, and I still have to finish it--!" 

"Then finish it on your laptop. You'll get it in a week, if you deserve it," Yohji promised. 

"But... but... You're not even supposed to have that! Remember? Has it already slipped your mind that I told you guys you're no longer allowed any access to it?" 

Yohji nodded, already making his way to the door. "I know, but Momoe asked for the inventory from Christmas time and you weren't home. And besides, I didn't read anything else there. And if you don't sleep with him, I'll make sure Ken doesn't read your dream journal, either." Before closing the door, Yohji bestowed some reassuring words. "Especially the later August entries. He'll die of blood loss. I think my nose bleed lasted for hours," Yohji joked, and Omi blanched. "Take care, kid! Don't let the big bad Ken monster eat you up." 

With Yohji's maniacal laughter echoing through the halls as if to serve as some prelude to his doom, Omi groaned.   


  
- - - - -  


  
Omi stared at the pixels arranged on his laptop, intent on finishing his project. Engrossed in typing up his input on the importance of the Mesopotamian civilization, he was fairly surprised when Ken materialized out of thin air. He jumped in his chair and squeaked when the taller boy bent to lean over him, bringing their faces inches away from touching. 

"K-Ken! Wh-wh-w--" 

"Whatcha doing, pretty thing?" 

Met with all that considerable cheesiness, Omi still found himself blushing so hard he was sure the tips of his hair were turning red. "I-I-I'm n-not doing a-anything! Y-you just." 

Ken waited patiently for the sentence to finish. "I just what?" 

'_Breathe in. It's okay, you're strong! You're the strongest, least geeky guy in the planet!_' With the pep talk settling in his system, Omi inhaled and got ready to be the witty, eloquent young man we all know and love. "Y-y-y--" '_...That went well._' 

Ken pulled up and doubled over in laughter. "Relax, Omi! I'm not really going to go through with that! You didn't think I'd stoop so low as to go after one of my closest friends, did you?" 

Omi's pulse gave way to gradual stability after hearing that, although Omi wasn't sure how his emotions were taking this bit of revelation. He didn't know whether he was extremely relieved, or extremely disappointed. "O-Oh. Of course not." Omi groped around, feeling for the edge of his desk. Scooting closer to the furniture, he laughed feebly. "Of course not. I mean, hah, you... and... I mean. You'd never. Right?" 

"Right!" Ken affirmed, patting the boy on the back as if to soothe a frightened animal. He hid a smirk as he watched Omi try to rid of some residue panic. "It's just a stupid bet with stupid Yohji, anyway. And believe me, I value our friendship much much more." 

Omi smiled, letting himself be convinced. "Thanks, Ken. It's a good thing you didn't take that seriously, like you do your other bets with Yohji, or else... Well, let's just say things would get a little uncomfortable." 

"He's so puerile sometimes," Ken scoffed. 

"Um. Yeah. Anyway, the poor guy thought you weren't kidding, you know. He went to me and told me not to 'give in to you' or something Yohji-ish to that effect. He's bribing me with my CD, which he conveniently has in his possession even if I specifically asked all of you never to touch it ever again!" 

"Aw, poor Omi. Everyone's taking advantage of poor, defenseless Omi." 

The blond repressed a disturbed look at that. 

Ken proceeded, oblivious to his friend's inner turmoil. He knelt down so he was in eye-level with Omi, looking over the boy's shoulder and at the laptop. "What's that for?" 

"My Social Studies term paper," Omi managed with a straight voice, despite Ken's wretched nearness. It was an especially strenuous ordeal to try and ignore the heat coming from Ken's body. But Omi endured. "The rest of it is in my CD, I think, which Yohji is holding hostage. Tell him the bet's off, please? I really need that CD." 

"Is that why it's so precious to you?" Ken asked. He was so close now, Omi could feel the older boy's breath on his ear. 

'_Just think, this isn't even him trying to "tempt" you._' Omi reddened once again, eyes steadfastly on his assignment. "Heh," he mumbled nervously in reply, summarizing his feelings in the span of one syllable. 

"Well, how about listening to what I have to offer?" In an instant, Ken had swiveled Omi's chair around, earning a gasp from the younger boy as he was coerced into facing Ken. Two hands went on the opposite sides of the chair, hindering Omi from any chance of quick escape. "I give you the best night of your life, and I throw in your Social Studies paper for free." 

Omi's rattled brain took its sweet time to discern that he had just been propositioned. Not to mention, bribed once again. "Wh-- You have my paper?" 

"Ehe, I kinda spilled something on it a few days ago and I was planning to retype it for you, I really was. But now I think I'm going to hold on to it to even out the advantages." 

"What were you doing in my room spilling things on my stuff?!" Omi pushed Ken away, throwing his door open. "Out! Get out!" Omi screeched, not feeling much like being sweet and forgiving as he was expected to be. The rareness of this attitude in the teenager was enough to halt Ken's little mission temporarily, and the older of the two scampered off with ominous parting words... 

"You haven't seen the last of me!" 

Great. Now it's official: Ken was trying to seduce Omi. '_Oh, brother._'   


  
- - - - -  


  
His first attempt thwarted, Ken retreated back to his room in momentary defeat. Back to the old drawing board, as they say. 

Trying his hand at meticulous planning, a first for the boy who usually acted on impulse and not much else, the devious side of Ken felt inspired enough to take over. And nothing less drastic would've been worthy. Omi will be difficult to win over. Ken knew for a fact that having the boy's paper wasn't much of an advantage. The CD, Ken knew, was much more important to Omi. 

Ken and Yohji, overcome with curiosity, had plucked the suddenly verboten object from Omi's room and searched its contents for anything remotely interesting one day. Some part of Ken's brain was still sensitive enough to feel a little bit of guilt, making him a bit jumpy and, consequently, made him spill coffee all over Omi's term paper. Ken took the antagonized assignment and resolved to retype it all for Omi. See, there really were noble intentions in mind. At first. Which can't be said for Yohji, who must have kept the CD for blackmail purposes. 

In fairness, both he and Ken knew that the bet wouldn't be a fair fight from the very beginning. Since, as expected, the significance of the CD laid on the dream journal folder. Specifically, the multitude of files mentioning one Ken Hidaka. 

The two older Weiss members were caught off-guard upon reading Omi's recounting of his dreams... Not only because of the subject at hand but also because Omi happened to have this steadfast penchant for detail, each word suggesting how innately well-versed Omi would be in the field of writing smut, impressing even the likes of Yohji. 

Having read volumes of embarrassed pornography starring himself, Ken understood why Yohji would do something to give him a fraction of a chance at winning. Omi was in every sense vulnerable, and Ken knew it. Blue-eyed putty in his hands. 

The only problem was that Omi seemed dead sure that Ken would be revolted by these sort of feelings, for some reason. He didn't want Ken to read that journal, laudably having kept his attraction to the older boy a secret. No one even suspected it. So while his task may be halfway done, the true challenge was getting Omi to realize that Ken was far from disgusted by his... sexual awakening. 

Ken would have to learn how to penetrate this shield of self-consciousness... But how? Omi didn't even get the slightest bit jealous when Ken went out on all those dates! So what would Ken have to do? 

He wanted Omi to get past "So long as Ken's happy", way past "Ken and I are (just) great friends", and simply skyrocketing to "Ken, I want you to tear off my clothes and take me long and _hard_, right here and right _now_!" 

And he would have to do it in one week.   


  
- - - - -  


  
"Here, let me get that for you!" Ken offered cheerfully, taking a large pot from Omi's arms. 

Omi ignored the way Ken's hand deliberately ran across his chest with obvious purpose as he reached for the flowers... The strong hand rubbing against his shirt, slender fingers contradicting the protuberant ardor of desire, implying a gentle passion... Really, it all went unnoticed. "Um. Thanks." 

"No problem." Ken flashed him a genial grin before retreating to the back to make short work of the unarranged flowers. "I handled the deliveries. I put some notes on the counter." 

"Oh! Thank you," Omi called out after him, nothing short of skipping to the counter. 

Omi decided it wasn't so bad being wooed by Ken, especially since he was being nice about it. If he were the object of Yohji's pursuit, on the other hand, he knew the approach would be drastically different. He was simply thankful that Ken wasn't doing anything that would've made Yohji proud. Ken, whether he knew it or not, was just being himself. In any case, Omi was still getting giddy with the smallest of favors. 

'_Get a grip! You need that dream journal, you will not succumb!_' Even if Omi was positively melting with all the attention being lathered onto him and allowing himself, if halfheartedly, to be deluded into thinking that Ken was really interested in him and not just interested in winning a bet. 

So what if it won't last? He can should bask in the moment as Ken worked, when he could have accomplished with or without any actual effort, to make him feel special. 

Ken came jogging up to Omi in mid-gushing, holding a small arrangement in front of him. "Omi! These are for you." He winked once and left before catching the starry-eyed expression on Omi's face. "See you later!" 

With a soft smile, Omi glanced lovingly at his gift, taking the card aside and hesitating before opening it. The flowers were arranged masterfully, like Ken had really taken time to think about them. Amaryllis, splendid beauty. Orange blossom, "your purity equals your loveliness". Snapdragon, hope. And Dahlia... good taste? Er. But Ken couldn't have known that. 

Omi took a deep breath before reading the card to himself. "Roses are red, violets are blue. I've got a big bed, so there's space for you." 

... 

'_Oh well.'_ Omi sighed. '_At least it rhymed._'   


  
- - - - -  


  
It turns out Ken has been spending way too much time with Yohji, and must've picked up on some techniques that, while they might've worked for the more suave casanova, made an cringe-worthy pervert of Ken. The worst part was, it was still able to fluster Omi! 

The younger boy would always try too hard not to dwell on every intentional brush, the heated stares that could melt an entire winter's worth of snow. A few days of this treatment was enough to drive the boy to the brink of insanity, and place their cold water supply on a dangerous low. 

One particular dinner time, when Ken promised to keep his hands to himself, Omi agreed to eat with the rest of Weiss. (He ate in his room yesterday, isolating himself from any potential rapists.) 

Omi made sure to sit farthest away from Ken, across the older boy where he couldn't be touched or grazed or out-and-out fondled. Ken raised both his hands and made a show of keeping them on top of the table where they can be monitored at all times. 

Satisfied, Omi was persuaded to believe that he would be eating dinner in peace. 

And of course, he was sadly mistaken. 

Halfway through his bowl of noodles, he felt something... rubbing against his ankles. The more Omi tried not to mind it and persevere with his noodles, the higher that something went up his legs. Omi recognized toes wriggling against his knees. He looked up from his meal, throwing a dirty look Ken's way. The brunet glanced at him questioningly, and not without licking his chopsticks in a lecherous fashion while Omi was looking. 

Blushing furiously, Omi moved his glare to the bowl in front of him, stabbing at his food. He valiantly attempted to keep his calm and took a sip of water. Which he promptly choked on as soon as the offending foot began to part his legs, crawling up against his thighs and creeping closer and closer to-- 

"Ah! E-Excuse me!" Omi jerked, his chair toppling over backwards. His teammates looked at him in concealed (Aya)/amused (Yohji)/faked (Ken) confusion and concern, watching as he fled the dining table. 

Still jumpy, Omi dug through cushions of the sofa looking for the remote control. '_Distraction, distraction, I need a--_' 

"You okay?" Ken placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"Gah!!" Omi slapped Ken's arm away, boring holes into the latter's head with a vicious look. "Back off! Stay away from me!" 

Ken shrugged, looking bored. "Why are you so affected, anyway?" 

"What? For one thing, you're violating me! You're nothing short of sexually harassing me!" 

Ken had the decency to look sheepish. "Okay, I know I may have gone a little overboard but..." 

"Screw y--!" Omi caught himself in time, saving himself from blurting out an unintentional invitation. "Go away or I'll leave." 

"...I just want to talk to you. Look, I'll even stay on this couch and you can stay where you are." Ken, with the frustrating ability to look completely contrite, begged Omi with his sympathetic brown eyes. "Please, Omi?" 

Omi turned away from him, not willing to put into words how he was utterly defeated. "You're so insensitive," he mumbled. 

Ken thought it best to drop the subject. He contented himself watching Omi's hands groping the cushions. "What are you doing?" 

"Looking for the remote." 

In a few minutes, the lost object landed on the pillow Omi was trying to salvage from his own frantic doing. Omi picked it up, his head whipping around to face the source of the remote control projectile. "Where'd you find it?" 

"Here, in this couch," Ken replied. "Losing a lot of things, aren't you? Like a Social Studies paper, perhaps...?" 

"Yes, thank you for reminding me for the fifteenth time," Omi muttered. 

"Omi...? I have to ask this, out of curiosity." Ken waited until Omi gathered the courage to look him in the eye. "Are you really so against the idea of having sex with me? I'm giving you your paper anyway, so you have no reason to hold out for Yohji to give you back your CD." 

Despite himself, Omi raised an eyebrow at that reasoning, staring at his friend in disbelief. "You do realize you're making me out to be some sort of homework whore?" 

In genuine confusion, Ken scratched his head. "But we're not making out." 

(-_-') "I meant you're making me sound like a whore." 

"No, I'm not. I'm acknowledging that you're a hormonal teenager." 

True. "But still." 

"It can't be too bad, since we're such close friends already," Ken said. "Y'know, I had this one friend back in high school. He kind of reminds me of you-- blond hair, petite. We used to do everything together. We trusted each other with everything." 

Suspecting an ulterior motive, Omi interrupted Ken's little flashback. "Are you trying to make me jealous?" 

"What? No, you don't get jealous." Ken dismissed him, losing himself gradually in the bit of history he was reliving. "Anyway, there was this one time we brought his dad's car out for a ride. He was showing off how he could drive already. But when a strong thunderstorm suddenly came, he got so frightened. We had to park it somewhere because he refused to drive in that weather. We decided to wait until the storm died down. He was looking so worried and I felt I had to do something." 

"Did you make the sun come out?" Omi joked. 

"I climbed on top of him and embraced him, trying to soothe his anxieties away. Then something about the way he hugged me back just drove me wild. Before I knew it we were kissing and unbuttoning each other's shirts. He would let out this beautiful moan every time I nibbled on his neck, and he'd reach down to touch me with those shy fingers, caress me..." 

Omi swallowed, noticing how all the supposed innocence of their conversation was dying a miserable death. "Uh... Wh-what was your friend's name?" 

Now completely engrossed in the memory, Ken proceeded with abandon. "The heat of his skin against mine felt so wonderful. I didn't want it to stop. He was just there, sprawled out, squirming beneath me... His wild blond hair thrown back with the rest of his head, full lips half-parted, saying my name in the midst of mindless lust. He was _consuming_ me. He gasped with every small movement I made, instructing me how I should move inside him." 

"Um. Er..." Omi mumbled helplessly, unable to move as Ken walked towards him, sitting next to him as close as humanly possible. 

"That was my first time, Omi," Ken whispered huskily, tracing the contour of Omi's jaw with his fingers. "It was incredible. Wild. And so, so good..." Ken leaned in, met with no resistance, inching closer and closer towards Omi's mouth. 

Their noses bumped together upon hearing Aya speak. "Omi, I put your food in the refrigerator." 

Omi leapt off the couch, composing himself. He turned to the man that saved him from something that would've cost him a CD... among other things. "Oh, Aya, thank you so much!" 

Aya looked at the blond, bewildered. "It's no problem, Omi, I just didn't want any ants getting at it." 

Omi threw his arms around the redhead. Aya, caught unawares, was unable to stop a kiss from landing on his cheek. "Thank you thank you thank you!" Omi cried out ecstatically, wasting no time to enter the sanctuary that was his room. 

Ken watched Aya wipe at his Omi-kissed cheek in mild nausea. "Aw, man, what does a guy have to do to get some action around here?!" Ken whined.   


  
- - - - -  


  
"Yohji, no, you can't leave me alone in this house! This is the last day of the bet! Ken's bound to be desperate. He'll try anything, and _no one_ will be able to stop him. I need you here, Yohji, please!" 

"Look, just because you two have really fucked up lovelifes doesn't mean I have to forfeit mine," Yohji argued. "You'll be fine." 

Omi blocked the door with his own small body. "You've read my dream journal. You know well by now just how badly I want him. I am not going to make it. I mean, I was so close to giving up yesterday. If Aya didn't come along, you'd be well on your way to spending the whole of next month in the flower shop." 

Yohji put his hands on his hips, looking like a comical mother. "I don't want to hear that kind of talk from you, young man! You will refuse all further advances from Ken, do you hear me?" 

Omi sighed, sagging against the door in defeat. "That's easy for you to say." 

"Well, I've got two letters for you. C and D." Gently pushing Omi away from the door, Yohji turned the knob and began with his exit. "You know... considering all the trouble you're putting yourself into, maybe it's not such a bad thing to just tell Ken how you really feel. I mean, what's the worst that can happen, right? Ken's used to having groupies, and obviously he's long past any form of homophobia." 

"The worst thing that could happen is he can confirm that he isn't love with me," Omi replied. "And that's the most likely thing that will happen. At least this way I can go on pretending that this schoolboy crush isn't so ridiculous." 

"He sure is eager enough to get you into bed with him." 

"Exactly. He didn't even consider my feelings in the matter, he just wants to win your moronic bet." 

"_My_ moronic bet?" Yohji rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I guess you may be right. I suppose I can see why you want the oblivious fool to remain oblivious. And whether or not he admits it, he really does need my help. You should see him in the dates I set him up with. It's like he tries to sabotage them from the start. Such a beginner, I tell you." 

Omi braced himself for the worst as soon as Yohji stepped out of the house. He was ready to cry rape if Ken so much as touched him! 

However, nothing came. The whole afternoon was wasted on worrying about what kind of schemes Ken had up his sleeve. It was almost dinner time and Ken hadn't even come out to eat. Omi found himself awash with concern for his friend, and soon right in front of said friend's door. '_Oh, how easily he is manipulated_,' Omi thought self-deprecatingly as he opened the door to Ken's room. 

"Ken?" he called into the room. Omi found Ken hunched over a bunch of crumpled papers and his clunky laptop. "You haven't eaten breakfast or lunch." Having received nothing for an answer, Omi gave in to curiosity. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm typing your paper for you," Ken answered with a small smile. 

Omi felt his blood boiling, irritated at the man's kindness or presumption, whatever the case may be. "And what makes you think Yohji's not going to win the bet?" 

Ken sighed, moving the papers on his lap carefully next to his laptop. He stood in front of Omi, placing his hands on the younger boy's slight shoulders, gentle but firm. "Yohji is going to win the bet. I'll tell him I gave up." 

"...Huh?" 

"You can have your CD and your paper, since they're both so important to you, Omi. But proving something to Yohji isn't important to me. I don't care what he thinks." Placing a soft, almost innocent kiss on Omi's lips, Ken held the smaller boy to him, tightly but not forcefully. 

Omi's eyes widened at the brief but electric touch. "Ken!" Blinking rapidly, Omi regained control of his brain. "You selfish jerk! Y-You..." 

"This isn't about the bet, Omi!" Ken declared emphatically. "I'll tell Yohji I lost, alright? I'll lose anything else you want me to. But I don't want to lose this chance with you." Ken captured Omi's mouth in his, joining them in a much more needy kiss than the first. One boy poured himself into the other, their sweet union stealing all coherent thought and breath between them. 

Ken pulled back suddenly, despite their mutual disappointment. "Wait. Wait, before we..." Ken looked Omi in the eye, matching serious for serious. "You have to get this: it's not the dumb bet, okay? Do you understand? It was always supposed to be you." 

Omi responded by initiating another passionate kiss, sending them tumbling on top of one another.   


  
- - - - -  


  
Omi blinked into wakefulness, feeling some leftover warmth from last night. 

'_Last night..._' he thought dreamily. 

"Good morning," Ken said sleepily, dropping a kiss on the back of Omi's neck. 

Omi shivered in delight, laughing softly. '_Just think... if that blessed dart had gone a few inches to the left... Then all of this would've never happened._' 

"You were everything I thought you'd be," Ken continued, trying to improve the already heavenly cuddle. 

"So were you," Omi said softly. 

'_...What_ if_ that dart pointed somewhere else? What if it hit Aya instead of me on that picture? Aya would be in my place now. Well, not exactly, given he's _Aya_. But still... All of this happened because of pure chance. It shouldn't matter how it happened so long as it did, I know that, and yet..._' 

"Omi?" 

The boy in question, who somehow managed to pry himself from Ken's arms, ran as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Initial feelings of joy dissolved quickly into depression, and even more quickly overridden by anger. "Stupid! Stupid Omi, this whole thing happened for such stupid reasons! Ken didn't mean anything he said!" 

As if on cue, the brunet barged in. "Omi. You can't just go off like that and think I'm not going to follow that incredible ass of yours." 

Omi's face was bright red in fury and abashment. "I hate you! You're a liar and you don't care about anybody but yourself!" 

Ken looked at Omi with loving eyes, and also as if the boy was a raving lunatic. "I thought we talked about this. You said you understood. And I told you I don't care about that bet. Let Yohji think whatever he wants to, I don't give a damn now that you're mine." 

"I'm yours?" Omi reiterated, gaping at him. "I'm sorry, I forgot the part where you told me that you wanted something meaningful and that you cared about my feelings, as opposed to just paying attention to the details of how to get me in bed." 

Ken gasped with horribly feigned surprise and an even worse attempt at innocence. "You missed that? You're such a silly scatterbrain." He smirked as he took a small sack that he was hiding behind his back, hoisting it up to eye-level then raising its wrinkly beige bottom into the air. Its contents glimmered briefly, pilfering some brightness from the morning, before clattering on the table. "How many of these are you missing, anyway?" 

About ten prodigal darts were staring up pointedly, excuse the pun, at their owner. In time, Omi managed to found his voice, fortunately. "How'd you get those?" he demanded. 

"Hah. I refuse to answer on the grounds that you are unwilling to be mine. So there." Ken stuck his chin up in the air arrogantly, though in a somewhat kindergarten fashion. 

"_Ken_. Where did those darts come from?" 

Ken scooped up all the darts from the table. "Alright, alright. I'm being unfair. I guess I should clarify exactly why you belong to me, then I can formally establish my claim on you. Fair enough?" Without waiting for an answer, Ken shut his eyes in an exorbitant motion and flung three darts at the picture, the one with a small but unmissable hole piercing through Omi's cheek. 

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._

Three darts were newly sported by Omi's corkboard, all somehow managing to pin themselves to the blue-eyed boy on an abused photograph, grinning despite his thrice-stabbed chest. 

Omi blinked. "H-how did... you...?" 

"Sorry I borrowed them without asking, but I had to make sure that my dart would land on the right person. And I had to practice with _something_, right?" Ken dropped the army of weapons in his hand on the boy's desk, like a noisy and almost childlike arsenal of answers. "I believe these are yours." With Ken's hands freed, they reached round the slim waist that appeared to beg his arms to encircle at all times. "And I believe this is mine." 

"You planned this all along..." Omi whispered. '_All of it... Yohji and the set-up dates. My dream journal. ...And that thing about his best friend in high school!!_' "You _planned_ this all along! You jerk! You are so going to _pay_ for this!" 

Ken shrugged. "Well, it's your fault. The whole double date thing didn't have to fail... You silly kid, you were supposed to get jealous." 

"Why you... You'll get what's coming to you," Omi hissed. "I'll find a way." For one thing, that favor in the dining table was going to be returned. In full price! 

"Can't wait," Ken said... or, more specifically, he promised. 


End file.
